A Life Sentence With You
by jc44
Summary: She no longer does law and he's no longer a callous bastard. With a wedding on the way, how do Bella and Edward juggle yet another controversial trial, a trying medical condition and their passion for one another? Sequel to Illegally in Love. AH ExB
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

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_When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me._ – _Led Zeppelin –- Thank You_

**BPOV**

"Swanny," Anna Jones chirps as she prances into class. She has her hair strewn into pigtails, blue streamers trailing as her Seattle Wildcats Volleyball jacket stays zipped. "I love your outfit." I glance down at my outfit, the absurdity my future sister-in-law, Alice, forces upon me on a daily basis. Black flats, dark jeans, white blouse, grey, unbuttoned vest. _If you're getting inducted into my family, you're wearing what I say_, she snipped to me before the first day of school. I sip my ceramic coffee mug, the one that holds double the volume of coffee, the one that keeps my sanity in full, working order.

"Thanks, Anna." I smile, swinging my left leg. I sit atop a table, folding my right underneath me. The whiteboard looms behind my back as I so exhaustedly witness my class trickle into the room. The exhaustion has been enveloping lately, it hindering my ability to wake up at all.

"I can't believe you." Allison Manning hisses as she shoulders past Kurt Lawrence. She barrels toward the sea of tables in the back of the room, her petal pink flats clacking against the tile. Her blonde hair bobs as she slumps her black backpack onto the floor, and the table groans slightly from the force. She yanks her seat out, plopping down and shooting daggers at her boyfriend, Chris Evans.

"What?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Saturday." She crosses her arms and growls. He blinks his pale blue eyes and I check the wall clock: 10:45 AM. Jesus. On a Monday. Christ. More coffee, please.

"What about it?" He scratches the back of his neck lazily as his table partner, Mac Tessler, screeches the chair from underneath the table.

"Sup, Evans." He claps his comrade's back as he pulls out a chewed, Number 2 pencil.

"Mac Attack." Chris nods while grinning.

"Shut up, Mac." Allison glares and her target raises his hands up.

"Stop being such a bitch, Allie." Chris snaps and I lower my coffee.

"Stop." I roll my eyes and the three of them glance my way. They mutter apologies under their breaths before the two boys continue their peeved glares. I yawn exhaustedly, my eyes dragging across the room as my mind trudges through its thoughts.

"I have so much to tell you." Susan McDonald titters and takes a seat in the front of the room. Lauren Casey sits across from her, tucking her hair behind her ears, awaiting the weekend gossip.

"Yo, we wrecked them on Friday." Michael Kasanoff booms on the eastern side of the room. Him and Phil Walker slap hands at a high velocity, causing a loud clap.

And finally, the bell rings. I take one last gulp from my mug before setting it down. There are still murmurs amongst the room and I neglect to cease them. I press my temples before rubbing them, a sensation which hardly soothes my fatigue. At a minute's passing, someone issues a hissing shush and all eyes are on me.

"So," I lean back nonchalantly. "What's up?" Hands shoot up into the air and I point at Anna Jones.

"We're going into States." She beams and bounces in her chair. I blink.

"Oh..." Sports... Sports... State Championships? "Uh, great! Everyone go support the volleyball team." I fumble and rock forward. Several more hands shoot up and I pick Michael Kasanoff this time.

"I ran from the cops this weekend, Swanny." He grins and I pick up my mug.

"And?" I raise an eyebrow while sipping my sweet nectar.

"Scotch free." He slaps the tabletop while grinning.

"Good. That's what I like to hear," I roll my eyes and smile slightly. "Okay, a few more, then we'll attempt to get something done today, kiddies." Eloise Fontaine proceeds to tell us about her successful art gallery showcase and Jason Sheffield reels off a humorous story involving himself and a box of cereal. After ten minutes worth of banter, I pick up a red, dry-erase marker and uncap it nonchalantly.

"Wait! Swanny, how's Edward?" Kimberly Wolff giggles incessantly in the back corner of the room.

"Edward," I muse. "Told me he's going to leave me for Stephen Colbert." There's a rouse of low laughter around the room as I distractedly recap the marker. In the process, I stare at the ring on my left hand; it glints partially under the crappy, public school lighting system.

"And what'd you say?" Mac Tessler grins.

"I said not if I left him for Colbert, first." I shrug and another wave of chuckles spreads across the room.

"So when can we meet him?" Kimberly leans forward in her seat and blinks her hazel eyes. I study the underside of my flat before glancing up at her. Unless coming into my office for a conference session, the vast majority of my students have never seen the elusive and mysterious fiancé of Ms. Bella Swan. A picture of us is taped on the wall above my desk, Edward being partially tipsy. He half smiles, those green eyes half closed, as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. Taken last June, his birthday, he wears no cast. Although not blaringly apparent, if you press your nose to the photo, you can see the ghastly scar running from shoulder to mid-forearm. Next to this photo is an array of others: Alice and Jasper, dancing at one of her shows. Her eyes are closed with a grin plastered on as she teeters around in heels and an _a la mode _number. Jasper rolls his eyes while smiling, his hands on the hips of his tuxedo. Annabel, nearly two years old, sitting on her parents' bed, her blue eyes crossed. She grips the blanket, so determined with staring into herself. Rose and Emmett sit next to one another on a park bench, gazing at an unknown object, obliviously in sync. There's one of Charlie and I, all smiles, all familial embrace. Sam, licking the heel of Edward's loafer which so gloriously makes it miniscule debut. And although absurd, Elizabeth. A frequent visitor, she's been residing in a foster home while the court date has been pending. In this photo, she sits, barefooted and cross-legged on the wooden floor. Her light brown hair grew back, piled atop her head as she grins and holds a circular birthday cake in her lap. _Happy Birthday, Edward_, it reads as her striking eyes sparkle. Sam sniffs her side, the charming German Sheppard unknowingly impeding on the moment. My collection of tacked photos splays memories and frozen time, yet to my students, they are a mystery.

"That reminds me," I clear my throat. "I have to leave fifteen minutes early, today." I run a hand through my hair and continue swinging my right leg. Meghan Parkinson's hand shoots up.

"Do we have homework?" She chippers.

"Not if you don't drive me insane today," I smile and there's a rouse of high fives and inaudible cheers. "Oh…" I clear my throat and wait for silence. The moment the chatter dies down, I scratch my neck. "And Edward is kidnapping me." Conversations flare up again as the tittering of my students recommence.

"That's so exciting." Susan McDonald bounces in her seat and I hop off of the table. My flats press against the skin of my feet, causing me to wince. I kick them off, sliding them under the table before I pop the cap off of the marker.

"It is. That's all for now, we've wasted too much time. So let's get cracking." I sigh exhaustedly and press the tip of the marker to the whiteboard.

……..

"And here," I draw an arrow to a blob supposedly representing Japan. "We want to focus on Japan. We've got beef with them. But of course, we have to upkeep an alliance, so we go to Germany," I scrawl another arrow to an amorphous shape apparently being said nation. "Now when all this carnage ended," I hastily circle Europe. "The USSR gets a chunk of this. And this, and this. Say goodbye, to capitalism, Eastern Europe," I cross out the eastern portion of the continent. "So back over to Japan, Truman issues the bomb drop after chipper old Area-51 gives him a call. I'm sure FDR was rolling over in his grave, but hey, T-Man is the one in your textbooks. Regardless, it's dropped – kaput. We rebuilt Japan. Yep, that was us. We wrote their freaking Constitution… The USSR was –" There's a knock at the door and my marker bleeds into a motionless dot. I glance up from my gloriously sloppy depiction of history, the textbook in my cross-legged lap. _Damn,_ please stay at bay, Mr. Principal. No shoes, sitting upon a desk? Nice, Bella. Nice.

"Come in." I call out and then duck back into the book. The door handle turns and all heads are turned toward the visitor. I blink once and furrow my brow, attempting to look authoritative.

"Oh… Hello." An angel's voice greets and my head snaps up. Edward stands in the doorway, wearing his normal attire: khakis, a button-up and a light coat. His bronze hair is beautiful and untamed as always, igniting a desire at eleven fifteen in the morning. His eyes glint emerald as he stuffs his hands into his coat and shyly peers at my class. There is silence as some of the female portion gape. Without shame.

"Class," I turn my head to them. "This is Edward." He wears a nametag, it reading, _Hello my name is Edward Cullen_, the latter bit scrawled in his perfect script. I can't help but smile at the elementary aura.

"Hello." He greets fluidly and turns a fraction to face the sea of students. There are low murmurs of greetings from my students, particularly from the girls. He smiles, slightly, crookedly, as he meets my gaze.

"I like the nametag." I smirk as I cap the marker. I throw it next to others before fishing for my flats with my toes.

"I like the drawings." He returns the smirk and nods at the whiteboard. I blush while hopping off the table, stumbling a bit.

"Alright, guys. Mr. Caius will be subbing for me. In the meantime, fill out this sheet, and if he decides you were too rowdy, you're handing it in." I place my hands on my hips and the class mutters.

"He's such an asshole." Christian Baker hisses under his breath. I trudge to my proper desk and delve my hands into my messenger bag. After fishing around, I pull out a stack of papers. I press them to my chest, making my way around the desk when the door opens once more. The notoriously callous substitute breezes in, glancing at Edward and then reaching me.

"I told them to do this sheet. If they're well behaved they can well… Just recycle it." I smile as he stops in front of me. He squints his beady eyes, and behind his back, Phil Walker commits imaginary suicide with an invisible finger gun. I shoot him a pointed look.

"Hi, Bella." Mr. Caius responds coolly and outstretches his palm.

"Hi," I strain a smile and take a half step backward. "I think I'll have Mr. Baker and Mr. Walker pass these out, if that's all right," I glance at the two, apathetic boys. "Christian? Phil?" They glance at each other from across the room, and then proceed to rise reluctantly. Their countenances ease as they realize they're in no immediate trouble after I plop a pile each into their awaiting hands.

"Any questions?" I run a hand through my hair and glance at Edward. He beams at me. There's silence and I walk back toward my desk to sling my bag over my shoulder. "Great. Have fun." I smile and my students emit a low groan.

Outside the classroom, Edward gently cups my face and plants a lingering kiss. I pull away after a moment, sputtering with giggles. "Not in school." I reprimand in a teasing tone. He furrows his brow.

"Nine years later and school authority still restricts us." His perfect lips frown and I roll my eyes teasingly. We glance back into the door's small window, and the front row slash the pencil sharpening students gape. I give a small wave before blushing.

"Can we go now?" I beg, my cheeks a light pink.

"You look exhausted." He frowns and studies my face. I pout.

"Because I am… Can we leave?" I fold my arms stubbornly.

"Hold on," He grins, fully aware of his actions. I narrow my eyes as he kisses the tip of my nose, a gesture which successfully upgrades my shade of pink to a shade of crimson. "Now we can go." He splays that crooked smile and holds his palm out.

"I hate you so much." I sigh and clasp his hand.

……..

He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on my knee: a feat he is still, to this day, ecstatic about. The past six months, Edward has gone mad with the notion of being able to use _both hands._ Driving, cooking, eating, embracing, hell, even in bed, Edward goes madcap for it. He's also ecstatic about the new lustrous, silver Volvo C70. Sam goes wild for the convertible function. If men could give birth, this car would be his child. Not ours, but his. The radio plays _Clair de Lune_, a neutral song, in both our books. No bickering ensues over musical tastes as the tune we've managed to come to peace over wafts through the small atmosphere. I glance over at my fiancé, and as I study his profile, I sigh contentedly.

"Yes, m'lady?" He keeps his eyes on the road, his hand on my knee and the other on my heart.

"Nothing," I avert my gaze to his ludicrous visitor's nametag. "Take this silly thing off." I giggle and reach over to peel the tag off of his coat. When I retract, I stare at his handwriting. _Hello my name is Edward Cullen_. Hello, my name is Bella Swan. I glance at my ring and ponder for a moment.

Hello, my name is Bella Cullen… Bella Cullen.

Isabella Marie Cullen.

I crumble the tag into my hand.

"How was school?" He teases.

"Tolerable," I sigh. "And work?"

"I'm not sure. I don't really pay attention to my clients anymore." Edward grins crookedly and I scoff.

"What a terrible characteristic for a lawyer." I muse and glance at the passing surroundings.

"On the contrary," He makes a left hand turn and accelerates the Volvo. "I like to think I'm a decent lawyer."

"_And the verdict is…" A jury member clears his throat. "Not guilty." Murmurs envelop the room as I scratch the back of my head. Edward's client bursts into tears, rising from their table and hooting with happiness._

"_And the verdict is, according to the jury…" The judge trails. "Guilty." A female jury member chippers and the defendant stares in disbelief. Edward smiles slightly and shrugs as his client screams, "_You filthy, bastard. That's what you get, I told you I'd sue you one day."

"_And the verdict is…" Edward mutters under his breath. "Not guilty." A jury member clarifies for him before the courtroom. There is a shuffling of papers as Edward's client grins heartily and seals the deal for yet another paycheck._

"I guess you're all right." I shrug.

"Well let's hope you and I are better than all right during this last trial." He smiles crookedly and slides into a parking space. After placing the car in park and cutting the ignition, the three of us stand in the lot. We walk, hand-in-hand, toward the familiar building. Once inside the courthouse, Edward, Sam and I idly wait outside the Judge's quarters. The floors are tiled, the walls paneled with mahogany as I drink in the surroundings so deeply imbedded into my mind. We rap the door once and wait, preoccupying ourselves with our silent thoughts. And after moments, the door swings open. Judge Masen glances from Edward to me in his khaki shorts and black Adidas sandals before widening his arms.

"Isabella!" He beams and embraces me. I pat his back and smile lightly.

"Hello, Judge." He lets me go and I retract a step.

"Good grief, girl. Don't you look sleepy?" He beams and I twitch my mouth.

"I could go for a nap." I joke.

"Hello, Edward," He turns to him and the two men shake hands. "You're looking better these days." Edward grins and executes a chuckle.

"Thank you." He ruffles those untamed locks. Judge Masen glances at my engagement ring initially, and then back at Edward.

"So when are you kids getting married?" He turns around and beckons for us to follow suit. We do, venturing into his quarters and exchanging apprehensive glances.

"Soon." I shrug as Edward closes the door behind us.

"Entail _soon_." The Judge leans against his desk and folds his arms.

"Two months. We've yet to send invitations but you're on the list." Edward gazes at me and my heartbeat quickens at the notion. However, my brain prepares for the storm of Alice Cullen as the wedding date so ominously approaches.

"Congratulations. I'll be sure to attend," The Judge claps his hands once and pops up from the table. "So you two," He begins to face. "It is to my knowledge that you've filed a suit nearly a year ago?" We nod in unison. "Against the Black family." He issues.

"Correct." Edward crosses his arms.

"Now, this city is just as scummy as any other, so we've been trying to squeeze in a date in this ludicrously busy courthouse," The Judge pauses. "You have a month to prepare."

"A month?" I raise my eyebrows. He nods.

"Well, that's excellent." Edward responds nonchalantly.

"And what is the girl's current situation?" The Judge refolds his arms.

"She's been in a foster home." I bite my lip.

"And what of the parents?" He raises his brows, taken aback. Edward and I exchange glances.

"We haven't been able to reach them." I say softly.

"What does that mean?" He demands and I sigh.

"We've received no word from the Blacks regarding both visitations and telephone calls."

There is a round of silence before he clears his throat. "So why press charges?"

"Morality. Ethicality. Adoption rights." Edward impedes monotonously. The two men of law gaze at one another, a silent argument heating.

"I see." Judge Masen mutters quietly. I inch toward Edward, craning my head up to catch wind of his expression. His brow is furrowed and the silence continues before it is broken by a single whine. The German Sheppard issues a slight whimper, ignored by both men, yet I snap to it. I study the dog who now patters in small circles, his tail tucked between his hind legs. A feeling of miniscule dread settles into the pit of my belly and I cross my toes.

"Could you tell us the exact date, Sir?" I blink.

"Oh, yes, erm… December 21st, I believe," He shuffles a set of files on his mahogany desk. A clock on the eastern wall ticks as I tap my foot in anticipation. "Yes, December 21st." His head pops up to meet my gaze. Sam's stops his circling to glance up at his owner, whose countenance is a drained, pallid shade. I alarmingly grasp his hand. Sam begins to whine as Edward wipes his brow with the back of his right hand. I squeeze his left, gazing at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" I whisper. He turns to me, his eyes large, pupils dilated. He nods and strains a smile, gripping my fingers. Sam's whines increase as he paws Edward's calf, and I bite my lip. _Oh no, oh no_. "Edward," I tug his hand. "Come on." Judge Masen looks from me to him, confused.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Edward swallows dryly and digs his fingers into my palm. We gaze at the Judge, pleading.

"Yes, that's fine…" He furrows his brow and scratches his head. Edward grips me and I follow as he treks across the room to sit. He plops down in the chair, burying his head between his knees. I maintain my hold on his hand and internally embrace for the storm. Sam has upgraded to barks now, pawing at his owner.

"Is he all right?" The Judge crosses his arms and I lift my head to meet his stare.

"Would you excuse us?" I strain a smile and squeeze Edward's hand. "I am so sorry." Masen nods reluctantly and at the green light, I rub Edward's shoulder. "Come on." I whisper somewhere near his ear. He stands torpidly, still gripping my palm, as I lead him and Sam out the door. Once I shut the door behind us, Sam turns pawing to me. I stare down into his frantic, beady eyes as he's attempting to tell me something I already know will happen.

"Bella," Edward's eyes are quarters. "Get me somewhere." He struggles as his brow forms sweat. I wipe it with the back of my hand and tug him.

"Let's go." He stumbles slightly as I drag him, my heart racing against the clock. Sam barks and nips at my ankles, following suit and snapping his jaw. I rack my brain for potential locations and skid to a stop in front of the men's restroom. Well, here goes. I swing the door open, ignoring the smell of ammonia radiating from the urinals. Edward squeezes my hand tightly as his eyelids flutter and I plop my purse onto the floor. I kneel down, him sitting on the floor with me, as I frantically search for two things: my cellphone and his biting block.

"Edward," I whisper and gently cup his face. "I love you."

His green eyes are quarters as he gazes at me. "I love you too." He issues before I lay his head in my lap. I hold the sides of his head firmly, his bronze hair jutting in between my fingers. He closes those beautiful eyes and I bite my lip. I taste blood. A wave of nausea washes over me but I swallow it down, staring at the tranquility of Edward's anticipation. Sam paces the room, the block in his mouth, ready to aid me.

_Don't let him die. Don't let him die. Don't let him die. Please God, don't let him die._

I shut my eyes and hope. Hope that he'll live through this one. Hope that I'll have to courage to save him. Hope that he'll make it to our wedding day. Hope that he'll understand I'll do this for the rest of our lives, if it comes to that.

**EPOV**

What? When the hell was a drinking? Let me rephrase that. When the hell was I drinking, then getting bulldozed at the frat party before receiving a Mike Tyson uppercut? Shamu probably gave me a visit en route to the hospital. Him, her, it, being on top. Of my head.

"What…" I moan, fluttering my lids open. I stare into a bright light, my eyes burning, before a hovering angel takes it away. So the tag-team of Iron Mike and Shamu sent me to Heaven? _Heaven?_

"You need to yell at your brain," A gorgeous brunette frowns. "You can't keep scaring me like that." I attempt to swallow, yet my throat is sticky. Parched.

"Thirsty." I shut my eyes and exhale deeply.

"I'll talk to the nurse." The assuaging voice says sweetly and I feel a set of soft lips on my cheek. My eyes fly open. Who? What? An angel? Thank you, alcohol…

"What? Who?" I croak and land my eyes on the angelic brunette.

"Edward," She smiles sadly. "It's Bella. Don't worry, your amnesia will pass in a few moments." Amnesia? I rack my brain furiously, gritting my teeth. So there was no drinking… No frat party… No bulldozer… No heavyweight boxer… No SeaWorld orca whale… Ding.

"Bella!" I smile in a whisper. Her beautiful eyes light up as she grips my hand. My right arm is hooked up to an intravenous drip, my left at my side. Even at a brief glance the ghoulish scar is unsettling. I drink in my hospital surroundings, piecing it all together.

"Grand –"

"Mal." I finish in a sigh for her. She nods solemnly but gives me palm a squeeze. I exhale and nestle my head further into the pillow without breaking our gaze.

"You're okay now." She strains a smile. Under the fluorescent lights, I note for the first time how fatigued she appears. Her large, clear chocolate eyes spark, yet they are surrounded by faint purple bruises. They're caked with sleep, the bags weighing her milky and smooth face down. Her lids are drawn down slightly, exhaustedly, and I raise my left hand to brush her cheekbone.

"But are you?" I blink.

"What?" She touches my wrist lightly.

"You… You've had better days I presume. According to the look on your face. It's not because of me is it? God, I'm so sorry, Bella. I told you –" I fret and squirm around in the scratchy hospital bed.

"Stop," She cuts me off and sighs. I purse my lips and allow her to continue. "Edward…" She trails and doesn't meet my gaze. My heart stills, and I swear, swear to all that is holy, that my heart monitor stops with it. My breath is held. "I fainted in the ambulance. You know I can't stand blood…" I exhale.

"What?" My eyes grow wide and I squeeze her hand. "Oh Bells, are you all right now?" I probe, yet she refuses to meet my gaze.

"I'm fine, perfectly fine. It's just…" She trails.

"Talk to me." I plead.

"They had me rest for a bit to check me out –" I squeeze her palm.

"Are you so exhausted from work? From teaching? Please, don't tell me it's been me. If I'm doing something to interfere with your sleep, I'm sorry. I promise not to hog the covers –" Her hand comes down on my mouth, the rest of my sentence spilling out as incoherent mumbles.

"Edward!" She blurts and finally meets my gaze with those gorgeous eyes. "It's not work. It's not you. It's…" She bites her lip.

"It's what, Bella?" I hold my breath.

"I'm 4 weeks pregnant."

* * *

**Oh snap. First chapter, that's right. Gotta get the bat crackalacking :)**

**Thanks for reading, I'll be surprised if any of you kept with this story! **

**Have a nice day, errbody**

**kisses, JennyCullen44**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

* * *

_Love: a temporary insanity, curable by marriage. - Ambrose Bierce_

**BPOV**

I hold my breath. In the simplest terms, it's all I can do. Anticipation zaps through the space between as my lungs knock at my brain's door. _Bella, you can breathe now_, they cry. _No. Not yet. Not yet_, is the response. His green eyes stare. They're laden within his statuesque face, and for a moment, I think I am holding the hand of a gargoyle. No, a marble Adonis. And slowly, so slowly, Edward blinks. His eyes trail down, raking my body and finally landing on my stomach. There is no evidence. _Funny joke_, he probably muses in his head. I feel him bore into my belly, my flat belly, and his thoughts scream. He does the math in his eyes, retracting four weeks.

"That won't help. We have sex just about every night." I mutter and his eyes snap to mine. A smile twitches at his lips, and finally, at long last, it surfaces. At his glorious grin, I exhale.

"A child?" He whispers, his eyes softening. His thumb runs circles against my palm and I nod.

"Our child." I murmur and glance down at my flattened stomach. _I'm going to be a mother…_ When I raise my head to gaze into his eyes, they're glazed. He stares at the ceiling, blinking furiously against his tear ducts. He fights so hard, battling the intangible weight of emotion. Edward continues his pattern of rubbing my palm, yet the pressure is lightened. I hold on to him, desiring to snap him out of this trance. But he needs it. Revelation and new beginnings streak through both our minds as I begin to ponder a child in my arms. The buzzing of the hospital's heartbeat whirrs in the background of our silence.

"God," Edward exhales in an exasperated manner. I snap from dreamland and study him. He squeezes his eyes shut before reopening them and connecting with my gaze. Hint of red irritation dances around his emerald irises, causing my own eyes to prick. "I love you so much." He squeezes my hand and I glance at his hospital bracelet. I glance his catheter. I glance at his intravenous drip. I glance at his heart rate monitor. I glance at Edward Cullen, my fiancé and father of my unborn child. I'd do this forever; sit here on the side of his bed. I'd do this for our child, our marriage and our love.

"I love you too." A wave of emotion envelops me, as does a smile.

"Well, Bella…" He murmurs and squeezes my fingers. "This is wonderful news." His eyes are red.

"You're… You're happy?" I squeak as the filmy layer of tears increases.

"Oh, Bella," He whispers through that crooked smile. "Of course, I'm happy. Don't cry." His fingers brush my cheeks gently. Tears that have unknowingly fallen.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle and choke a laugh. "I'm just so… happy too." I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

"I hope it'll have your laugh." Edward says gently, prodding me into awkwardly laughing even more.

"I hope it'll look like you." I roll my eyes and hiccup once, bouncing slightly in my seat. He smiles.

"No, Bella, Bella. I hope it will both look and act like you, for having two of you is an excellent two-in-one price bargain."

"Ridiculous." I giggle and lean forward to peck his cheek.

"But honestly," He says softly, his green eyes brimming. "What the hell did I do right to deserve this?" His eyes are drawn downward.

"You came back to me." I offer.

"No," He shakes his head and those bronze tresses stir slightly. "Well, yes. But we owe it to someone who truly holds all the credentials."

"Elizabeth." I murmur. He nods.

"Bella, I just… I never thought I'd experience this." He whispers and shakily lifts my hand. He brings my fingers to his mouth and kisses them softly, his lips cracked and soft.

He exhales, as do I. "Why?" I smile with my tear-brimmed eyes.

"I never thought I would have children. You know, I was so incredibly busy – and arrogant. It just never occurred to me that it was a possibility… Without you. I never thought you'd come back to _me_, Bella," He whispers. "And without you, there's no purpose in getting married, or having children. A trophy wife is too absurd, if I ever decided to wed out of love. A colleague in my firm is out of the question. Why? Because no one, and believe me when I say, no one, compares to you. And what you mean to me. But here you are, holding my hand, cleaning me up and wiping me down. You put up with my crap: my snide comments created from witticism, my cover-hogging ways, my inability to keep out of the ICU ward. And you, you incredible woman, are going to have my child? I can't even grasp it." He smiles so hard with my fingers pressed against him, and I cannot help but allow the tears to spill. For the umpteenth time, he makes me cry. But this time, it's not because he's walking out or stomping on my heart. This time, he's walking back in and fixing it. Hell, he even walks away with it, taunting for me to take it back. But I don't. I don't even think about it.

……..

Although we're playing the unconventional, polar card, I don't mind the birth of Edward's hawk-eyed characteristics. I should be the one eyeing him, and although ridiculous, he won't lay a finger off of me. He defies doctor's orders, an _incredible surprise_, as we weave in and out of Seattle's streets. Always a rebel and always a bastard – a reformed one, at this point – Edward is already up and running. As we walk through the brisk cold, his hand is pressed against the small of my back. If I walk several steps ahead, he'll be right there. Watching, watching for nothing at all. At this point, it's all surreal; a thought so distant it's placed on an island scarcely visible from the shoreline. Hardly visible. Too far to swim, too far to boat. It's there, but not quite tangible.

"I'm fine, Edward," I sigh and glance up at him. "I'm not some manacled, feeble woman now that you've knocked me up."

"Feministic. Crude. I like it," He flashes that grin and we both stop at a crosswalk. He retrieves his hand from the small of my back and smirks. I melt. "I'll hand you the independence token… But as for other concerns… You're far too clumsy to keep even yourself alive." He chuckles and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I scowl.

"You're terrible." I mutter and his lips press hard against my temple. He makes a popping noise – mockery.

"I'm right, darling." He laughs that musical laugh and the crosswalk signals the _Walk Now_ sign. I mutter incoherent strings of nothingness under my breath as the cold nips my cheeks. Sam trots by Edward's side.

"I've certainly taken the fall from feminism," I smile. "Giving up on what you egotistical corporate folk consider a _decent _job. Then, to go on to a profession so frowned upon and joked about in white-collared society. And to top it off, I'm now chained to my stomach for nine months. I'll probably kill myself in the delivery room too, and you know that."

"_God_," He throws his head back. "You are _so_ cynical! Not to mention incredibly smart. And sexy." He laughs and we continue to walk. I merely roll my eyes.

"I went to law school for a reason." I tease and we halt to a stop. Sam is already pacing up the stairs, but as the rest of Seattle passes by in a blur, we are unmoving.

Edward removes his hand from my shoulders and proceeds to face across from me. "So are you saying lawyers are sexy?" He grins and I fail to stifle a giggle.

"No, not the latter, you silly –"

"So they're sexy," He repeats with a musical chuckle. "I may have heard that somewhere…" He looks dashing in our sunless city, the grey serving his eyes wonders. They pop out against the drab surroundings, illuminating our bit of space.

"Well, I heard they aren't." I cross my arms.

"Oh, the hypocrisy!" He booms with a glint in his eye. "Come on, Margaret Thatcher." He rolls his eyes and I smack his arm playfully.

"You're so arrogant," I laugh, the brisk air forming condensation with my words. "Sexy lawyer."

"Ha ha, how I cannot wait until we are married. It wil be like this, but worse, of course. We'll have to bicker in bed too when I'm watching television and you're skimming a book. I won't have to turn off the lights though – that's on your side of the bed." He grabs my hand and we turn to walk the steps - Sam awaiting us.

"So we're going to raise our child in your apartment?" I smile and glance at his profile.

"Agh, way to ruin all my silent fun." He pouts and I raise an eyebrow.

"_Quoi?_" I mutter.

"_Je ne sais quoi._" He shrugs.

"Silent fun?" I blink twice.

"I was just thinking about purchasing different… living accommodations." His lips vacillate between a line and a smile.

"Tell me!" My eyes grow wide. "Please, tell me." I demand.

"No can do: silent fun." He breaks out into a crooked smile before pecking my temple.

"I will actually murder you, because my hormones are raging." I scowl as he pushes the door open. Sam follows.

"Again. Can't wait to get married."

……..

She sits at a table, absentmindedly staring at her nails. Her eyes squint as she raises them to her nose. Elizabeth studies her chipped, pale pink polish and she furrows her brow before grinding a flake off. Adolescence has leaked its way into her features; her facial structure is more defined, her body taller and leaner, her feminine assets hidden behind a blue, _Lake Tahoe_ sweatshirt.

"Have you ever been to Lake Tahoe?" Edward plops down into a seat across from her. She glances up, momentarily, before chipping another flake off her pinky nail. Her eyes are still that striking shade of light blue, and they blink, shielded by thick, black lashes.

"Hey," She greets, her eyes flickering to him for a mere half-second. "And nope. It's a friend's. Hey, Bella." Her eyes are drawn back to her preoccupation. Her light brown cascade of hair is strewn in a sloppy bun atop her head. It moves as she ducks her head.

"Hi, Elizabeth." I smile and take a seat next to Edward.

"Where's Sam?" Elizabeth looks up distractedly and proceeds to gnaw on her pinky. Her large eyes blink once.

"Here." Edward mutters and glances under the table. The German Sheppard circles around, bumping our calves, before emerging and nuzzling her knee. She smiles, charmed, and ruffles his fur.

"Hey, buddy." She grins. When she retracts her hand, she's moved on to chipping the polish off her fourth finger.

"No nail polish remover?" Edward raises her eyes and Elizabeth hides a smile.

"It's missing in action. I'm doing this old school." She purses her lips and glances from him to me.

"Alice would not approve." I feign horror and she jokingly clasps a hand to her mouth.

"Don't tell on me, Edward." She mutters and goes back to her mission. Elizabeth was introduced to our small knit of friends months ago. She took a particular liking to the notoriously rampant pixie, finding her _sassy and _classy. A tiny pile of petal pink begins to form on the table directly beneath her.

"Perhaps I won't." He smiles at the fifteen-year old girl. We chat for a bit, reviewing how life is treating us, how awful her classes are, how terribly irked she is by stalker #4 in her Western Humanities class. She inquires about the wedding, teaching, what type of food Edward is feeding Sam these days. She suggests Iams. The banter continues on, yet two subjects are not probed: the upcoming trial and our new… Surprise.

"I've decided that I'm a muffin kind of girl," Her quirky sense of conversation continues. "I mean, icing is good – don't get me wrong. However, the fluff of muffins is truly sovereign. You can't fluff a cupcake." She's onto her thumb now.

"I've always been a muffin kind of girl, too." I concur, my elbow propped onto the table. I cup my neck and blink once.

"Right? They're great. What's your take on this, Edward?" She turns to him.

"Neutral." He shrugs.

"Why?" She demands and tucks her side-swept bangs behind her left ear. I inhale shakily, yet I cannot bear to look away. Snaking inconspicuously from beneath her hair is the ghoulish scar that runs nearly the entire horizontal length of her head. The tresses veil it, but no amount of hair can secrete the evidence from Edward and I.

"I enjoy both." He says distractedly; he notices the scar as well, albeit its substantial concealment.

"What?" She blinks. "Are you two looking at it again?" Edward and I exchange startled glances.

"No. I… We…"

"Stop feeling guilty," She throws her hands in the air. "I mean honestly, it happened a year ago." Her Converse slip off the rung of her chair and she leans forward on the table. We're silent as she gazes at us, as she studies our faces.

"Okay." I duck my gaze.

"Hm." Edward merely grunts. She connects with his gaze, slowly, and the two begin a silent conversation. I stare at the cracks in the table.

"Uh… How is Jacob?" I blink. Elizabeth breaks Edward's gaze to stare at me.

"Great, actually," She shrugs. "He's doing well at the Police Academy. And how are you, Bella?"

I cross my arms. "I'm fine."

"You look tired." She cups her on face and tilts her head to the side. Damn.

"I am." I smile and turn to Edward.

"She's been working exhaustively, lately." He confirms with a nod. There is a round of silence as Elizabeth bores her bright eyes into me, studying me, attempting to decode me. She squints her eyes slightly and cocks her head even further.

I blink twice. "Your eggo is preggo." She finally says.

"What?" I raise my eyebrows as Edward's lips twitch with that crooked smile.

"You're pregnant." She rephrases.

"How do you… Think that?" I furrow my brow.

"You forget that I'm perceptive," She laughs, her eyes crinkling without crow's feet. "You're tired. He keeps watching you. It's obvious." I stare at her dubiously.

"I… Well, Er…" I stutter.

"She is." Edward grins.

"Congratulations. I'm just surprised it didn't happen earlier." Elizabeth shrugs with a glinting smile.

"Thank you." I bite my lip with a giggle.

"Thank you, Elizabeth." Edward nods sincerely.

"So when you win the trial, am I the official babysitter?" She asks nonchalantly and raises her nails to her nose once more. I stare at her, this unique, quirky girl with a scarred past and a complete disregard for it. She peers into the future, not allowing her countenance to swim with the past, as the flakes of her nail polish continue falling into a pile. Gone, her old petal pink nails shed, the bare, unpolished nails ready for a new coat; a new start.

**EPOV**

I skim the paper, inconspicuously searching for home listings. A surprise for Bella's belated birthday. A new beginning for our family. Nothing that I can't afford, I tediously glance at the suburban homes for sale. None spark any particular interest, and I sigh heavily.

"What's wrong?" Bella bounds over to me from the den. She ambles through the archway and plops directly onto my lap at the island counter.

"Oof," I smile. "Of all the square feet in this apartment and you choose this particular spot to seat yourself?" She slinks her arms around my neck and leans back into my chest.

"What are you looking at?" She squirms in my lap to gain sight of my secretive conquest. I fold the paper shut, tossing it onto the counter. It slides across the marble top, out of her reach.

"Nothing." I tease.

"Tell me." She pouts and I wrap my arms around her waist.

"Our nation's spiraling fiscal situation." I breeze with nonchalance and she rolls her eyes.

"Right. On the _Home_ section?"

"Hey. Inflation. Foreclosures." I shrug.

"Hey… No." She pecks my cheek.

"Fine, you stubborn woman. I was wondering if we should paint the bathroom lavender."

"Right." Her tone is laced.

"New tile for the kitchen?"

"Nice try."

"An article on a family's heart-wrenching, inspirational story where they moved into their ideal, Victorian era mansion, despite the adversaries? Too high on the market? The father juggled three jobs just to pay for his family's dreams? Yet despite all of it, the marble columns still displease the wife? It has a doghouse for Sparky, too."

"Now, I'm honestly beginning to wonder if you _do_ read the _Home_ section." She giggles and I smile into her hair.

"I assure you, I don't."

"So then why were you?" She upkeeps that admirable tenacity.

"Would you like the truth?" I sigh. She nods vigorously and gazes up at me with those gorgeous, brown eyes. "I have a doorknob fetish." She whacks my chest. "I joke, I joke, you masochistic woman. I was… Looking into houses."

"What?" She blinks.

"For us. Our family." I smile and she snuggles into me.

"Oh, Edward… That's so wonderful." Bella muffles into my chest.

"I'm just not sure if suburban Seattle is really my calling. But of course, it's your decision. I'm waiting hand on foot for you, here." I stroke her mahogany tresses gently.

"Forks." She murmurs somewhere into my polyester t-shirt.

"Forks?" I raise my eyebrows as she raises her head. Her eyes flicker to mine for a moment before they're on my scar. I watch her carefully, studying her actions. Slowly, she raises her forefinger to my shoulder as she begins to trace my evidential mistake. It weaves, just as the jags, down my arm. We both watch her finger trail down my arm, and once it reaches the end, she meets my gaze.

"Does that hurt?" She tilts her head slightly.

"No." I shake mine.

"Good," She blinks those chocolate eyes. "That's good."

I nod. "Yes."

"So then, Forks…" She trails.

"Are you sure? All of our friends live here in Seattle." I murmur.

"I miss home," She says softly. "And you never know if they want to, as well. Jasper wouldn't want Annabel to grow up in a city… He didn't, and I'm sure he doesn't want his daughter to. Rosalie… Well, maybe if she gets pregnant – actually, you know what? I don't care. I want to have our baby in Forks. But wait… What about your career?" She purses her lips and gazes at me.

"Forks, it is."

"No, no, no. You can't leave your career." She sighs, torn.

"We can discuss this later." I offer.

"Suburban Seattle. Let's do that. We'll be right outside the city, not far from everyone. You can commute, I can too…" She counteracts. I exhale.

"Bella –"

"Edward. We can visit places on the outskirts. I'm sure we'll find something… You probably have gotten the wrong impression, because after all, the _Home_ section _is_ for people with doorknob and wood paneling fetishes." She beams and lays her head onto my shoulder.

I gaze down at her. "I hope you realize that I don't have a preference. I'm here to make you happy, if you want a house in Forks, I'll get you one. If you want a house in suburban Seattle, I'll get you one. If you want a house in Connecticut and then a bungalow in Florida, I'll get you both. Bella," I laugh. "This is in your hands."

"I want you to like it where we live, though…" She murmurs on my shoulder.

"As long as you and our baby are there, I'm golden, love."

And later that night, in bed, I press my ear against her creamy stomach. It's smooth, flat, bare, and to my disbelief, my child – our child – is buried underneath. She laughs, melodically, and pats my hair, her fingers lingering. She absentmindedly twiddles a lock of my hair between her forefinger and thumb while I rub her belly. Silky and taut, my pattern and hers lilts my eyes shut. A boy? A girl? Visions of blue explode and spill in tune with pink, overflowing into a river of thoughts. It's a calm rushing of flow as I ponder our tiny bundle of cells. My eyes? Her eyes? Her beauty? My arrogance? I trace drawings into her stomach, lightly, gently, in hopes that our child can see through the darkness. _It's not even a child yet_, I think to myself, yet my fingers develop minds of their own. They continue with their depictions, drawing starry pictures for our baby's night sky. Our child, our infant, is wrapped in a blanket, snug and warm in the womb, as he or she blinks at the personalized constellations. Circles, squares, abstract lines all form the celestial imagery that the unborn truly deserves; I, an artist warped by love.

"What are you doing? It tickles." Bella giggles sleepily as she continues to pluck my hair.

"Nothing." I poke her side and she writhes.

"Stop." She sputters through a laugh. I smile into her supple skin and continue with my depictions, the darkness lulling me into a half-conscious pattern. Her fingers weave through my hair, massaging my scalp. I turn my head to kiss my canvas softly, it smelling of freesia and Bella. "Look at you," She yawns and removes her hands from my hair to stretch. Her back arches, her belly, that canvas, becoming further taut. After seconds, it returns to normality. Still flat, still smooth. "So touchy feely tonight." She chirps after executing her fatigue.

"I always am." I chuckle and shift myself. I prop onto my elbows and plant one last kiss, attempting to find my way through this darkness. Bella issues a single giggle, a _come and find me_ giggle, so I partake in this challenge. It really isn't hard. I trail my kisses upward, up the plateau of her belly, through the valley between her bare breasts, and up the slope of her neck. I find her lips; they're curved and welcoming.

"I'm too tired for round two." She giggles against me, yet her fervor fails to cease. She wraps her slender arms around my torso, the fingertips digging into my skin. It is my turn to laugh.

"Oh?" I refuse to fit myself upon her; rather, I suffice by leaning toward my bride-to-be. Four weeks pregnant, and already, the paranoia begins to settle. Nine months of scarcely touching her… Shit.

"Oh," She pulls away and buries her face into my neck. "Come to bed, Edward." I feel her smile.

"I am in bed." I slump off my propped elbows, into my side. She shifts as well, her face still buried within my collarbone.

"You know what I mean." She murmurs and snuggles further into me. I sigh.

"Very well, then. Goodnight, love." I plant a kiss into her mahogany hair and suppress a yawn.

"Goodnight." She releases her fingers from my neck to smooth the tresses of hair. I curl my arms around her, nestling half of my face somewhere in the sea of our pillow. She emits a contented sigh - an angel's noise. And somehow, I find myself singing. To both my muse and our child.

* * *

**Yay, fluff? Okay, be proud. I actually updated within a reasonable time span.**

**Sound the bells and flood the streets! I joke, I joke. I'm finally going to get officially**

**diagnosed for ADHD and I'm SO excited. Well, not for the psychologist and me sounding deranged **

**bit, but for the amphedimines. I may actually be able to update once a week. God, the possibilities are insane.**

**No pun intended. End rant... Enjoy the reading!**

**kisses, JennyCullen44**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

* * *

_"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future." - Oscar Wilde_

**EPOV**

A pealing giggle erupts from the squirming bundle in Alice's trying arms. Thin and short, they struggle against the rustling fabric of the coat attempting to escape maternal embrace. I sip my coffee slowly, registering the crackling dynamite bounding in the lap across from mine. Bella's fingers are smooth, pearly in my palm and I decide that it may in fact, be too early to handle the explosive, albeit sweet, Annabel. Blonde tufts of hair sway in accordance with the ringing laughter as my jolly niece buries her face into the crook of her mother's collarbone.

"Annabel, calm yourself." Alice emits an exhaustive sigh. She shifts the explosive child onto her other hip, all the while permeating a haggard air about her. The coffee finally leaves my lips and the mug lands with a small thud against the table.

"Mumma," She shrills. "Mumma, Mumma, Mumma." Bell tugs at a strand of Alice's raven hair, straining her milky skin at the crown. A scowl treks across her face quickly, yet her impatience lingers.

"What?" She sighs. "What, what, what? Here, go to Dada." She smirks slightly and hands her daughter off to Jasper. He receives her almost reluctantly, that is, until his arms furl around her tiny body in the most affectionate of ways.

"Hey, Sugar." His lips curl into a loving smile and she erupts into more giggles.

"Dada." She pats his shoulders and puckers her small, ruby pout. Jasper kisses her three times, quickly and lovingly. Bella emits a small sigh, the generic, longing one in which one says, _oh, look, how adorable._

"Why does she only do that with you?" Alice frowns and fluffs the crown of her hair. Her thin fingers wrap around the abused strand and they twist it gently into place.

"I guess it's a Daddy thing." Jasper grins and a small pang hits my chest.

"Well," Alice mutters. "Keep it up. It's a Sunday and I need my breakfast." She sips her coffee as well and sighs.

"A Daddy thing…" Bella repeats with a coy smile and squeezes my hand.

A Daddy thing? I ponder the notion that I will be a father to potentially a firecracker or a passive bundle of Bella and I. I pray that it's a girl, because even on a Sunday morning during breakfast, Bella is the most beautiful woman in the world. If my daughter resembled her, her full lips, her chocolate eyes, her creamy skin, I'd do Daddy things all day and night for that angel. Only eight months left.

**BPOV**

"Elizabeth," I smile brightly, "Hey." She lounges at the usual table, elbows propped, back slouched forward. Today, she dons a creamy blouse, and as the ruffles run across her skin, it's growing hard to deny the woman she is growing in to. Her collarbone isn't quite as hollow, and her curves have made their entrance. The ruffles skim, falling into a waterfall of white. Her long hair is twisted into a braid and thrown delicately over her right shoulder. The scar creeps out meticulously, her mark of pain missing its twin, for Edward's is hidden beneath the smooth, black peacoat.

"Hello." He greets her with a slight wave and she lifts her chin.

"Hey, guys." She tilts her head to the side as we both take seats across from her.

"How are you?" Edward blinks, yet before he is answered, a warm voice calls me.

"Bella," The three of us glance up at the voice to find a tall, dark-haired man gazing at me. His hazel eyes bore into mine, and when he blinks those long lashes, I recognize his straitlaced face. It's handsome, very, very handsome. The sloped, pointed nose, the milky skin, the small, straight pout. All of it is attractive; all of him, but beauty without a spark means nothing. Possessing a sort of rigid beauty, the man of my past blinks at me. "Bella Swan."

I find myself speechless as the beautiful man next to me gazes into my side. _Who's this_? It sits on the tip of his tongue, but he's far too much of a reformed gentleman to even dare. I swallow, the saliva traveling down my throat in a sticky manner. And I tell myself that the man next to me is more beautiful than Henry Burke, because he _does_ possess that spark. His beauty is not rigid, rather… Celestial. A celestial, Olympian beauty.

"Henry." I force a smile on my lips and wonder if he'll see the ring. If he'll call me a hypocrite and storm off into the shadows he emerged from.

"How are you?" His pout hardly moves and I blink twice.

"I'm fine. Just fine. How are you?" He nods silently to himself, making his way from behind Elizabeth. He skims his hand across the tabletop, gazing at me, receiving daggers from Edward.

"Fine, Bella." He murmurs and Elizabeth finally clears her throat.

"Hey, Edward, this is Henry Burke. He co-owns the orphanage… You know, thus helping out sometimes. And Henry, this is Edward Cullen, my attorney. And that's Bella Swan, but I think you already know her…" She gestures and idly trails at the end.

"A pleasure, Mr. Cullen." He glances at Edward yet gazes at me.

"Likewise." He responds cordially, however, his undertone is venomous and I shift.

"Do you mind?" The corners of Henry's lips curve slightly as he gestures toward the empty chair next to Elizabeth. Edward splays a prosthetic smile and nods once, allowing, before all eyes are on me. I'm to give final permission? My eyes widen conspicuously, and as a token of reassurance, or perhaps, male pride and domination, Edward clasps my head. And after Henry's glare, I'm thinking the latter.

"Go ahead." I attempt a shot at being chipper and Elizabeth yawns.

"I've grown to know Elizabeth over the duration of here stay here," Henry begins and folds his hands. "And she's very different from the others. She's wonderful. However, I am here to inform you, that I will be involved in her court case as well. We understand you're vying for legal guardian rights, and similar to you, Bel – Ms. Swan, I am to observe," He clears his throat. "It is to my knowledge you're a guardian ad litem?"

"Was." I correct and glance down at the table.

"Oh? Well, it is my duty to observe to the fullest you and Mr. Cullen's lifestyles, habits, living conditions… Professions. If I may ask, what is your relationship with one another?" He probes.

"Bella here is my fiancée." Edward fires back politely, straining the smugness in his voice.

"Congratulations," Henry strains a smile against his rigid countenance. It stretches across too tight, and the prosthetic glint nearly blinds me. "And it is to my understanding that you are Elizabeth's attorney, Mr. Cullen?"

"I am." He nods and squeezes my fingers.

"_Hopefully_ I'll be testifying on your behalf." Henry smirks wickedly and I bite my lip. Edward smirks slightly, tracing circles into the table with his fingertip.

"And if you do not, Mr. Burke, I am sure that we will successfully gain guardianship rights, regardless." He does not blink, and the two men ensue in a cordial war of words. I sink in my chair, willing myself death and eternal sleep.

"That's a bold statement, Mr. Cullen. And you're certain of this… verdict?" He retorts and unfolds his hands.

"Nearly certain." His tone is now smug.

"I'm dubious as to how you are so sure. Arrogance, Mr. Cullen, is a not a favored trait." They stare at one another, emerald boring into hazel as it is reciprocated.

"You mistake arrogance for confidence, Mr. Burke." Edward's crooked smile appears and Elizabeth smothers a giggle.

"Confidence perhaps… Or an excess dosage of braggadocio." Henry refutes and raises an eyebrow. I run a hand over my belly and shut my eyes, dreaming of my baby.

"Braggadocio. Hm. Your professionalism is slipping, Mr. Burke."

"I state what I see. My job is to observe, and I am doing such." There is a long pause, so unsettling that my eyes pry themselves open. Edward and Henry stare at one another, as their anger is apparent and sizzling. Elizabeth grins, gazing at Edward.

"I'm a busy man," Edward finally says. "Unfortunately, I do believe it's time for me to depart such a lovely conversation," He scowls and begins to rise. "Good day, Mr. Burke."

"You may be a busy man, but have you asked your fiancée if she is just as busy?" Henry snaps and all eyes are on me once more. Here we are, either follow your man and stay silent. Stay by his side. Defy all sounds of independence. Or, stay here. Don't stand by him, fly every independent color you have. I either let go of his hand or let him help me up. I gaze at his long fingers curled around mine, and then up at his emerald eyes. And it's that Olympian beauty and my Titanic-sized abundance of love for him that helps me decide.

"I'm busy as well." I rise and turn to stare at Henry. His face falls slightly and Edward's arm is around my waist in a victorious pose. His face is smug as his grip is tight, yet I strain a smile for Henry.

"Have a good day, Mr. Burke. And kiddo," He turns to Elizabeth. "Have an even better one." Her grin is imprinted in my mind, yet before we can turn to leave, Henry rises.

"Bella, may I speak with you for a moment?" His question lingers and my eyes widen. Edward stares down into my eyes, and I suddenly forget about the other man.

"I'll wait with Elizabeth." He says strangely, and his kiss is too long and too steamy to be genuine. Stupid, jealous Edward.

My heart is still thudding against my ribcage as I seat myself across from the man who could potentially be credited for piecing me back together all those years ago. I fidget with the zipper of my purse as I stare in the handsome, sober face of Regret and Guilt. Shit.

"It's been years." Henry's tone is softer. He drums his fingers on the tabletop lightly, idly creating a beat.

"It has." I offer a smile and note the rare, buttery sunshine spilling into the room. It trails into every niche, yet for some reason, I don't want to welcome sunshine today.

"You look great. Happy." He notes and I feel a blush creep up my cheeks.

"You do too." I continue fidgeting and a silence falls across us. The zipping of my purse is almost calming, the tiny metal sound reverberating.

"Elizabeth is great, isn't she?" He smiles calmly and I can't hide a grin.

"Wonderful. Edward and I are hoping to win guardianship." And at his name, Henry frowns.

"He's a bit arrogant, isn't he?" He runs a hand through his dark hair - an Edward habit.

"Confident." I correct with a smile and he nods.

"Yes, well… I suppose we have different opinions."

"I… Suppose." I murmur and continue my zipping.

"I've missed you. I… _Miss _you." He says softly and I stop breathing.

"It's been awhile, has it not?" I answer meekly… The only thing that comes to mind.

"So why'd you leave?" He finally asks in a quiet voice, the question I've been avoiding for six years. My fingers will themselves to stop zipping, and my heart stops in my throat.

"I… I don't know." I whisper and the rest goes to shit. I attempt to swallow my heart back down, but it lodges.

"You do know," He refutes steadily. There is a pause. "Was that him, Bella? Is that him?" I stare at the table, him staring at me, and I'm suffocating.

"I'm not telling you." I murmur. Still suffocating.

"And he gave you that ring? Was it him? I want to know. I want to know why I wasn't the one who was able to give you a ring." Looming silences tend to rule my life, and that familiar layer of tension settles about. _Breathe, Bella._

"That… That was him." I raise my head and stare into his handsome face. Straitlaced, rigid and safe as always.

"And you left _me _to go find him again? After he ripped you up and stomped on you and I had to fix you up? And then you go back to him." His safe face stares at me and I realize why. My heart begins trailing down to my stomach, and I can suddenly breathe once more.

"No, that's not why." I fold my arms and sigh.

"So why couldn't I have given you a ring?" Goddamn, Henry.

"I… I don't… Know." I lie, paling against him.

"You said no to me, Bella. So you do know. I hate to make you feel uncomfortable, but a guy likes to know after six years without an answer." There is a pause, as my silly brain racks for subjects to change to.

"I'd like to thank you for that year." I offer.

"Christ, Bella. Still trying to be chipper as always." He mutters. His sober voice is calming, and his safety, his security, is the reason I'd ever stayed with him at all.

"_I love you," He says, brushing my hair from my cheeks. "So much." In his arms, nothing can hurt me. No tigers, daggers, murderers or an emerald eyed Adonis. Nothing from Pandora's Box. With his soothing warm voice and strong, safe embrace, I almost think about staying with him. Forever. Because maybe a hazel-eyed guardian who can fend off Pandora and her evils is better than a green-eyed God who cuts me up and fills the cracks and slits with burning love, desire. Do I play it safe? Do I say, _I love you too, Henry_? I would. I really would, if it weren't for that fact that I'm too cut up, too scarred, too battered to know what safe is anymore. I kiss him gently, issuing no response, and turn the light off. _And he waits for my response to this day, because in the morning, I was gone. I was his Edward. And in the light, despite his perfect, straight face, I can see the cuts I placed on him, too.

My eyes prick. "I'm sorry." I rise hastily, stumbling all the while against my sheet of hot tears.

"Bella, stay." He rises with me and reaches forward. The tips of his fingers graze my bare arm and I flinch with regret. Staring him in the face, seeing what I'd made of him, I cannot even face myself.

"I never loved you," I whisper shakily, withdrawing my arm. He winces slightly, that icy face faltering. "I'm so sorry."

"Bella…" He trails, but I'm already turning on my heel.

"It's why I left," I stop myself to look over my shoulder at Henry. Gashed, bleeding, done for. All my doing. "I was in love with him. And I am so sorry." I blubber and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. Before he can follow me, the clacking of my heels echoes off the ceilings, the walls, and his perfectly shaped cheekbones.

…….

In the Volvo, the tension fails to subside. Edward is silent, both hands on the wheel. I fail to grasp why. _I chose you, Edward. I chose _you, I want to say. Yet how can I? Stupid, jealous, shiny Volvo owner. I bite my lip, chewing away the time. His beautiful face is stone as no emotions mill about, unsettling me. When we park outside our apartment, he opens my door wordlessly. I meet his gaze, pleading with him, teasing him into speaking with me again.

"Talk to me." I coax and amble alongside him across the parking lot.

"About what?" He mutters and holds the golden door open for me.

"You know." I scowl and our respective footwear clack and reverberate off the walls of the marble lobby.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He mutters bitterly and punches the elevator button. We wait together in quasi-darkness, the silence pooling in.

"You have absolutely no right to be angry with me." I cross my arms and peer up at my Adonis.

"I'm not angry." He replies monotonously and the there is a ding before the elevator doors open. We enter wordlessly, and as the doors shut, I turn to him.

"Then what are you?" I scowl. He punches our floor number and idly leans against the western elevator wall.

"Nothing." His eyes scan the mirrored ceiling and I huff.

"Okay. Fine." I snap and turn from him. There is a ding as the doors open for us, and I'm the first one out. I amble down the corridor and retrieve my key to the door the second from the end. After turning the knob, I stumble inside and don't bother to hold the door for him. His irrational anger doesn't deserve my time.

I pry the heels off my feet and toss them into a niche just as Edward silently closes the door behind him. I flop my purse onto an end table as he meticulously removes his loafers. Our electric anger still in the air.

"Could you clean up after yourself?" He mutters and I turn on my heel.

"I'll do what I want. I live here too." I refute with a scowl. He rolls his eyes lightly and issues an exhaustive sigh, igniting my flame.

"You scarcely clean up after yourself." He says under his breath as he walks past me into the kitchen.

"I _do_ clean up after myself." I scowl hotly and follow suit.

"Oh, _hardly_." His voice grows louder and I stamp my feet in place.

"Don't get mad at me over every little petty thing just because you're jealous of Henry." I jab as he flings the refrigerator open.

"Why would I be jealous?" He pokes his head out. "That man is unprofessional, ridiculous, insufferable, _disdainful_, judgmental and further, cannot keep his eyes to himself." He disappears again.

"So you _are_ jealous!" I cross my arms in the doorway. He glances up from the fridge once more and raises an eyebrow.

"No, Isabella. It's just rude to stare at a woman when she so blatantly has a ring on her finger." He scowls and I growl through my teeth.

"You don't know him, _Edward Anthony_."

"You're right. I don't. But apparently you do. Would you like to tell me what that was about?" He withdraws a carton of orange juice and shuts the door.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I lift my chin and he rummages through the cupboards.

"You had a good ten-minute chat with him." He grunts and the clinking of glasses rings throughout the kitchen.

"We… Erm, we…" I fidget and Edward pauses pouring his juice.

"You what?" He questions darkly.

"Used to date." I say meekly and fiddle with my earrings.

"Hm," He issues while taking a swig. "And we're going to be spending boatloads of time with him?" He mutters and I bite my lip.

"Hey… Why are you even worrying about him?" I assuage and patter toward him, my anger fading.

"I'm not worrying." He sighs, exasperated. He sets the glass down with a clink and leans back against the counter.

"Well… You are. And I assure you, we were nothing serious." Lie.

He frowns. "I just hate to think of you with someone else." His green eyes are set on mine, yet my anger bubbles again.

"Are you serious?" I snap and he furrows his brow. "You have a bitchfit over the one guy I dated after you so classically smashed my heart up? I can't even imagine how many girls you screwed while you gallivanted around for eight years, so don't you dare lose your balls and mope around like a hormonal teenager just because an ex-boyfriend of mine is now in your life."

"Bella," He seethes hotly and steps toward me. "He was _ogling_ you. That's barbarous! And you're fine with this? I understand you dated him once, but is that not in your past? I've apologized countless times for the pain I've caused you, and you're still going back to that? Don't wear the ring if you can't let it go. We can't get married if everything always comes back to this." He snaps and a layer of filmy, hot tears blockades my vision.

"Fine. We won't get married. Asshole." I choke and step backward from him. The dam breaks and my hormones guide the tears down my cheeks. They cascade, only to be wiped away by my grubby fingers. His emerald eyes soften, his eyebrows drawn.

"Bella," He murmurs softly and holds his arms out. "Bella, love, come here. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, you know I didn't mean that, my love." I stand in place, blubbering with speech as he snakes his arms around me.

And in a flash, his lips are on mine. His fingers waste no time undoing my blouse buttons and mine do the same on his belt buckle. Soon enough, we're in the throes of wonderful makeup sex. Counter sex, if you will. Sweaty, passionate, mind-blowing counter sex.

… At least it's a marble counter.

I begin unraveling into a bundle of nerves, an animalistic creature with no thoughts. My brain spills out my ears as my insides fold. Everything's heightened, and I'm almost certain I'm more cat than human at this point. No longer Bella Swan, I'm a thing. A moaning, bundle of nerves. Yet toward the end, a loud noise rings throughout the kitchen: my phone.

"Mmm… Don't… Pick it… Ugh… Up." Edward pants in my ear, his sweet breath trickling down. My brain, a pile of mush, attempts to register this.

"It… No… Oh, _Edward_… No, no, stop! It could be… Important." I pant and he groans loudly.

"You're joking, right? Please, ugh, tell me… You're joking." He pleads and nuzzles his perfect face into my neck.

"Sorry, sorry!" I entwine my fingers through his thick hair, yet with a final thrust, I've reached my peak. My hips buck and I forget what the hell a phone is. I finish contentedly, issuing a long sigh, and he's not far behind. We go limp, and my brain attempts to reconnect itself. Edward presses his chiseled body against mine, planting lingering, heavy kisses all over. I pat for my phone, eyes rolling back, giggles escaping my lips.

"I love you. And I'm sorry." He mumbles into my collarbone and I run my hand through his crop of bronze hair.

"I love you too," I giggle. "It's fine. But be quiet. I have to call this number back…" I flip it open, yet to my convenience, the loud ring reverberates around the kitchen once more. I close my eyes, issue a sigh and press the _send _button.

"Hello?" I greet in a shallow breath.

"Bella? This is Henry." He greets in a strange tone. Edward growls into my neck and I shush him with a poke to the temple.

"Oh, hi, Henry." I sigh, peeved with the insignificance of the call.

"Are you busy?" He murmurs and I grunt.

"Mm, well… Yes, a bit busy." I smile and I can feel Edward's crooked one in my neck.

"Oh, then I won't waste time. Bella, I've been thinking, and you really deserve better than that guy you have," At this, Edward jerks up and glares at my cell. "So, I won't even play fair at this point. Leave him, and I'll testify on his behalf. He can have Elizabeth –"

"Henry! Absolutely not," I seethe. "Edward is my fiancé. _We're_ fighting for Elizabeth, not only him." I cut him off but he chuckles lightly.

"Oh, I realize that. So, I'm going to force you out of this relationship."

"Excuse me?" I raise an eyebrow.

"If you don't leave him, Bella, I'll tell him what happened. I'll tell the whole goddamn world what happened. And you _know_ what I'm talking about."

My phone hits the floor with a crack, snapping in two, laying in pieces. I slink off the counter, Edward with me, as he shoots thousands of questions with his countenance. I ignore them all and rise quickly, running into the bathroom and slamming the door. And then I sob so hard I think my ribs have broken themselves. He's going to leave me. He pounds on the door, asking for me, and I smooth my belly, hoping to God it'll look like him. Because it might be the only thing I have left of Edward after this.

* * *

**I don't think any of you deserve to wait this long for an update. I'm really sorry! If I could,**

**I'd transfer all my thoughts and writing skills to a robot or someone else so they could update at**

**responsible and reasonable intervals, hehe. Oiiii, and cliffhanger, right? You all hate me now :)**

**P.S. The makeup sex bit was SO originally full of hilarity. That goes out to xXxFreeHellxXx... Ha!**

**Happy reading! Sorry about the update again. And happy summer**

**x, JC44**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

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* * *

  
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"_Burn it down 'til the embers smoke on the ground. And start new when your heart is an empty room." – DCFC_

**EPOV**

"Bella," I mutter lethargically, "Bella. Isabella, come out." My cheek presses against the cool, polished oak. Shuffling arises from the other side of the door, yet despite my hopes, silence follows. I groan. The clunk of an object unnamed rings through my ears, the small vibrations vanishing. A clock ticks somewhere nearby. A constant, unchanging ticking. Time, a constant, does not slow. It does not reverse, and as much I'd pay for it to, it is the component which keeps Bella on the other side of the door rather than in bed, as we were, several hours ago.

"Bella," I plead once more. Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the door. I feel her presence on the other side. Possibly asleep, possibly not. Yet I'm compelled to stay here, obligated, even. "Come out."

"No," she squeaks faintly. Her soft voice rings clearly as it permeates the mahogany and I'm quick to my feet.

"Oh! So you're alive. Great, that's great. Now just open up the door, babe. I'm not a serial killer. Come out. This isn't _The Shining_," I sigh and my eyes slink shut.

"No," she hiccups in a pealing fashion and I jiggle the doorknob fervently.

"_Please_, Bella. Bel- Isabella. Really. I understand you're upset but let's be rational here. It's very late. You're exhausted, you're upset, you're hormonal. I respect that, but you're pregnant. You really can't be locking yourself in bathrooms in the pinnacle of night, crying your eyes out and blocking off your poor fiancé. Think about this. You have work in the morning and we both know that you're quite the charmer during the AM hours. I'm begging you, for the sake of your _health_, come out."

A vacuous silence begins to eat away at my pores. The shroud of helplessness settles, wrapping around me a tad too tight. Shit, this is serious. I slump against the door, defeated, slinking down toward the ground. My arm chafes against the mahogany, igniting a dull pain in the reconstructed matter and I wince. She exudes no response, even as I curl against the door. Sam patters over to me at this moment and stares at me with his coal eyes. He whines once, long and high, before slumping down at my feet. His wet tongue laps at the niches of my toes and I sigh.

"Bel-"

"Why do you care about me so much?" she squeaks in a strange tone.

"What?" I question unfathomably. "What kind of question is that?"

"Why? Why do you have to care so much, Edward?" she demands. "Why can't you just leave me here and go to sleep? Why do you have to be so good to me?" Her voice cracks and I hear evidence of her delicate nose burying itself into a wad of tissue.

"What are you _talking _about?" I question incredulously. "Why would I just leave you here? It is my duty to accompany you through your hormonal episodes. Isn't this expected?"

"I… just. Edward, I just need you to leave me alone. Please, go to bed," she sniffles and the silence resettles.

"I don't… understand why, Bella. Is it something I did?" I furrow my brow and quickly recount my actions and their consequences over the span of the last several days. What did I do? Or am constituted as a default apex of douchebaggery; that all of my actions deem myself a complete and irreversible asshole? I glance quizzically at Sam. He whines once before nestling his head onto the floor.

"No! You didn't do anything. I just want some time by myself," she mumbles through the door crack. I sigh heavily. A fraction of myself nearly rises and flings myself into bed. Yet I reassess my actions. Alice, once upon a time, translated her exquisite skill of lock picking over to me. I, once upon a time, was nearly as good as she. I, currently, am desperate. In a swift movement, I rise and stumble my way through the foyer. I squint fervently and push aside the darkness. With a flick of the kitchen switch, light pours into the room, highlighting my wallet. I snatch it from the counter and rifle through its contents. Visa? No… American Express… Oh, why not. I pluck the silver card from its slot and lethargically stumble my way back to Bella's newfound cavern.

"I tried to be nice with you, babe," I sigh and slide the card into the door crack. She muffles in protest as I fiddle with the door lock, and after a moment, I hear the victorious 'click' press against my ear. My fingers slowly wrap around the doorknob and attempt to grasp what I believe is a tangible problem. The door swings open to reveal a disheveled Bella. She glances up at me with swollen eyes.

She curls into herself on the tiled floor, donning an oversized blue bathrobe. Crumpled tissues surround her in circuitous fashion; a pagan ritual of her unexplainable self-loathing. Her beautiful eyes are rimmed red, puffed out and evasive of my stare. Locks of hair stick to her wet cheeks and I sigh.

"Bella," I exhale. She sniffles once, gluing her eyes to the rug. "Come here." I kneel down next to her and gently peel the hair from her crimson cheeks. She flinches.

"You're going to hate me," she squeaks and hiccups. Her lip trembles as she meets my stare and I shake my head fervently.

"Not at all. Now, let's be rational. It's late. Look at you, you miserable woman. I know you want to sleep. Do you want a cuddle?" I plaster on a strained grin. "I know you-"

"_Stop_, Edward," she snaps and I reel backward. "Why do you have to be so charming? Why do you care so much? I just want to be alone." Her puffy eyes close and her feathery, thick lashes brush against her tears. I stare at her, rammed. The silence, of course, resettles.

"Look," I begin cautiously, "I'm trying here. I… realize now that you're veritably upset. I want…" I pause, "I want to respect your wishes. I think I'm going to take a walk. You're… welcome to the bed." My voice grows fainter and I slowly rise. She stares up at me, hauntingly, and numbly nods. An uneasy series of stomach flips becomes dizzying and finally, she rises to her feet. At a loss for words, all I can do is slide past her into the darkened corridor.

"It's nothing you did," she says quietly and slinks toward our bedroom. I follow her wordlessly and as she curls up into bed, I snatch my overcoat from the room's beige tapered chair. Fuck, it's going to be cold. I shrug the coat on and grab my slacks that I had worn that previous day. My right leg plunges through the pants the moment Bella speaks.

"I love you," she mumbles, "but I need some time alone." I meet her gaze heavily and nod, once. I buckle my belt quickly and evade her bundled up beneath the blankets.

"Whatever you say," I say flatly and stride away from the woman I love. This time, just as many others, I am leaving her. Yet this time, she is the one truly leaving me.

…..

Seattle nightlife buzzes fervently around me. The low humming of lit advertisements unites deafeningly and I shiver. My fingers fumble with the car heat; my bones ache for the blast of heat. Bursts of warm air waft from the niches of my car, causing Sam to whine contentedly. I crawl up the icy road, passing by lit clubs and darkened stores. Only certain people litter the frozen blocks of Seattle at two in the morning; they mostly stumble their way into cabs as the rest of the world sleeps. I sigh. I witness a girl sloppily meander her way from a bar, grin plastered on and makeup smudged. Her hair is frazzled, her eyes glazed as she catches my eye. Her eyes expand exponentially and she giggles once. _Hi_, she mouths, waggling her fingers. I shift in my seat before nudging my toe against the accelerator.

I crawl up another block, inching my way through the snow-laden roads. My fingers tremble against the steering wheel and I realize the insomnia pulsating through my veins. Sam whines loudly, long and slow.

"Oh," I sigh, "what are we going to do, Sam?" He gazes up at me with black eyes and blinks. I purse my lips, awaiting a noise. He ducks his head lithely, avoiding my gaze, and buries himself into the fur on his belly. _You're alone on this one, Edward_. I tap the accelerator.

The blurring frames of street life continue. Blaring cab horns, booming music and drunken laughter litter the sidewalks. I whimsically slow against a curb and park next to a fare meter. Sam glances at me with questioning eyes and I can't help but shrug. His leash, my gloves and game face are on. When I exit the Volvo, my bones shatter. Puffs of breath linger around my head and I struggle to fish quarters from my pocket.

"Hey! Hey, you!" a slurred voice wafts over. I snap my head up. A petite girl points to me and flashes a wide smile. I blink.

"Yes?" I mutter.

"Whatcha doing?" she giggles, flailing her purse.

"Paying for my parking spot," I sigh. My fingers fumble the quarters into the slot and her vibrant canary coat flashes in my peripheral.

"That's cool. But hey, it's fuckin' cold out. Why you parking _now_?" she hiccups and covers her mouth.

"It is cold," I comment, "But my dog needed a walk." She glances at Sam and begins her giggling again.

"Can I pet him?" she drinks in my wretched, disheveled appearance.

"You're not even looking at him," I tug his leash and begin making footprints in the snow. Biting wind nips at my face and rifles through my hair, leaving behind ice and fatigue.

"So?" she laughs, yet her laughter is fading as I stride my way down the end of the block. Blaring music emits from the corner and after some consideration, I decide I need a drink.

"Why you looking so down?" the bartender nods at me. I slide onto a stool and rub my temples. "And hey, we don't allow dogs in here."

"He's a service dog," I mutter.

"Oh. You blind?" he grunts and retrieves a glass. I stare at him.

"Are you serious?" I sigh, "Look, can you just pour me a Scotch? On the rocks. Actually, pour a double." I wipe my eyes.

"You got it, buddy." The clinking of the ice cubes perks Sam's ears and a swirl of amber liquid swishes the glass.

"Thanks," I murmur. I grip the glass, swig it and grit my teeth.

"Your wife kick you out or something?" the bartender says gruffly, tilting his head.

"Close," I set the glass down with a pound, "You've almost got it."

"Divorce?"

I glance up at him briefly, nudging the glass with the tip of my finger.

"We're not even married yet," I groan and the amber swirls before my eyes.

"Well," the bartender snaps his bottle up, "This gonna make you stronger, ain't it? A handsome fellow like you knocking back this shit is sure to do some damage." He yawns then and places the glass bottle before my nose.

"Damage to what?" I bury my nose into my drink and pound it down. My eyes swell up, glazed by the sting of the potency. It rakes down my throat, raging, and finally settles into the pit of my stomach with a low burn. A soft buzz extrapolates to the lengths of my fingers and the tips of my toes and I clink the glass down.

"Anyone. Your girl, any girl. Just pick a girl," he chuckles heartedly.

"I would never," I grunt, "pick up another woman." He pours another drink and I raise my glass to him.

"Why not? She's not your ball and chain, _yet_. Obviously you're whipped, but she kicked you out, didn't she? Go wreak some havoc, buddy." He laughs to himself. I place my lips on the rim of the glass, tasting the burning liquid and my loss of pride.

"That's not me," I blink, "I love her." Only the music is heard, melancholy, wafting. I clink my glass, shifting it from hand to hand. I scan each bottle in the racks behind the bartender, slowly, desperately. Sam whines. "Get me another drink," I shut my eyes.

Time passes. People swing in, people stumble out. The Scotch numbs my body against the nipping cold air, as well as my own thoughts. Music wafts carelessly through the bar, twirling in and out of people's hair and poisons. I find myself humming to a tune, my eyes glazed and my body swollen with the amber substance.

"You're drunk," the bartender notes his watch.

"So?" I grin stupidly. "Isn't that was bars are for?" I sway on the stool, balancing myself with my two hands on the bar surface.

"It's late. Don't you got a ride home? You can't drive right now, kid," he brandishes a towel cloth and begins to wipe down the bar surface.

"What's your name, good sir?" I jab my finger at him and he chuckles lightly.

"Mickey," he snags the bottle of Scotch, "what about you?"

"Edward," I close my eyes. "It was very nice meeting you." I jut my hand into open air and he receives my gesture.

"Yeah. Hey, Eddy, come on now. How you gonna get home?" he retrieves my empty glass in front of me. I stare at the mahogany of the bar surface, squinting my eyes. Focusing…

"I don't even have a home to go to," I lower my eyes.

He tuts, "someone in the city you know? It's a big town." I ponder this for a moment, deciding who will drag my inebriated ass in.

"My… my sister," I blink, "Yes, Alice." I hop off the stool and clutch the bar edge, balancing myself.

"Easy there, soldier," Mickey blinks. He turns around and begins the process of shutting down his bar. I laugh heartedly and begin to fish my phone from my pocket. Seeing double, I realize that I'm screwed.

"Uh… Mickey?" I hiccup. He turns to me, eyebrow raised.

"I can't really… Uh, figure out how to work a BlackBerry right now," I laugh. He stares at me dubiously before grinning himself.

"And you think I know how to work one sober? Come on, you're rich. You should know. What are you, a doctor or something?"

"No," I shake my head. The room spins fervently and I blink myself into stability. "A lawyer."

He laughs, "Lawyers are one of a kind. Say, Eddy… Edward. Aren't you that lawyer…? In the summer, when you represented that kid? Am I right?" I stop punching random patterns of keys into my phone and glance up at him.

I nod slowly, numbly. He slaps his belly.

"I knew it! I knew you from somewhere," he grins. The room begins to spin faster. "Hey, what ever happened to that girl? Your client?" he tilts his head.

I smell burning metal, the crack of smashing glass. Sweet, saccharine blood pools my nose. Flashes of darkness, of hellish screams blip my vision. A surgery, Bella's angelic visage hovering over me. The sickly smell of a yellow death, of a mourning family. Stale white walls in an orphanage, a pretty girl with ragged, red scar. Scum from the past with hazel eyes and a black heart. And Bella, with her swollen eyes and belly.

I duck my head and vomit.

***

"Jasper, can you go make the guest bed?" a pealing voice pierces my ears. Two miniature hands steady my waist and bustle me forward.

"Alice?" I slur.

"Edward," she sighs, "what has gotten into you?" she sets me down on a sofa and flicks the lights on. The light sears my eyes and I immediately curl away into darkness.

"Nothing," I muffle, "I'm fine."

"You reek, Edward," she sighs.

"This isn't my fault," I slink my eyes shut. The world stops spinning and I dig my fingers into a throw pillow.

"Oh, really? Someone force-fed you alcohol?" she scowls and I moan.

"Leave me alone, pixie. Let me sleep," I grip the pillow tighter, hunching my shoulders.

"No, I want to talk to you first. You got a free pass in high school when I had to clean your drunk ass up just about every Saturday night. But you're a _grown man_ now. With a fiancée! What on Earth are you doing? Edward Anthony, do not tell me you have cold feet, you piece of –"

"_Alice_," I groan, "I don't have cold feet."

"You can't be gallivanting around at 4 in the morning, drunk as hell in 10 degree weather! Tell me, what are you doing?" she seethes.

"She kicked me out for the night," I peek an eye out at my sister. "I don't know why."

"Bella?" she asks incredulously, "Bella Swan kicked _you_ out?" A thick air settles around us and I can hear Alice's brain ticking fervently.

"That she did," I sprawl my length out and bury my face.

"Did you get into a fight?" Alice asks softly. Her tiny hands are on my back now, soothing me.

"No," I mutter. Some more silence as Alice ponders and suddenly, Jasper appears.

"Is he conscious?" his Southern drawl harmonizes with Alice's tinkling voice.

"Yes," she sighs, "Bella kicked him out." Her voice is hushed and there is an agonizing pause.

"I should probably check on Annabel," he murmurs. "Feel better, Edward." The pattering of his footsteps fades. Alice's hands are tugging at me now, pulling me upright.

"Let's at least get you into your room," she mutters.

In the guest room, I don a set of Jasper's sleep attire. Alice is at the edge of my bed, knees curled to her chest. A ticking clock on the nightstand preaches time and I want to sleep.

"Is she pregnant?" Alice breaks my quasi sleep and snaps me back to lucidity. I blink, registering the question. _Oh, shit_. This isn't how Bella would want Alice to find out… Yet Alice _is_ omniscient. I choose silence. "I knew it," she bounds to her feet, "I _knew_ it."

I purse my lips, "how did you know?"

"I know everything. You should know that by now, Edward," she paces the room and I shield my eyes. "So then, I really wouldn't worry," she sighs.

"Why not?" I mutter.

"Pregnant women are crazy! They're off their rockers, sailing on the S.S. Instability in the Sea of Hormones for nine months! She's probably feeling very emotional at the moment," she rubs her temples and I shake my head.

"That may be, Alice. But she received a phone call earlier and went ballistic. She snapped her phone and locked herself into a closet for hours upon end. Oh, and second she comes out, she wants to be alone," I sigh.

"Do you know who called?" Alice asks quizzically.

"No," I shake my head, "And I cannot imagine what they said to her. It's not like I'm cheating on her, Alice. I have done nothing."

"Maybe it's not you," she says softly, "maybe it's someone else."

**BPOV**

What have I done? I shift around on my sopping pillow and glance at the nightstand clock. 4:16 AM. I force myself upright and peel sticking strands of hair from my cheeks. The bedroom is lonely and as I glance back at our bed, only one side is disheveled and soaked with tears. Where could he be? My eyes well up as I stare outside; the howling wind, the raking branches, the flurry of ivory snow.

I walk into the kitchen and flick on the lights. It appears normal, untouched by the transpiring events. Until I see my phone. The flip cover has snapped off the keyboard and the screen, smashed, snakes a spidery web of broken plastic. I dial him from the home phone.

_Hello. You've reached the phone of Edward Cullen. Please leave your name, number and message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you._

I hit the _end_ button with trembling fingers. The apartment, eerie without the humming of Edward or the pattering of Sam, taunts me. The floorboards creak in laughter, the dripping sink giggles in a cadence. I rush into the bedroom. I glance at the disheveled bed, the crumpled tissues. And finally, I glance at my coat.

***

I shiver severely against the zero wind chill of the city. This was stupid. This was a whim. This was my fault. No, this was Henry's. I grind my teeth as his smoothed face breaks into my head. I feel a flutter in my stomach and my eyes begin to well once more.

The wind whips my coat. My fingers crack and I struggle to blink. The darkness of the sky envelops me, suffocating me. It leads me to a bench, covered by a bus stop roof. I trip into the frosty bench, gripping the rail and settling myself. What am I doing? I slowly lay myself down, trembling against the cold. I wonder where he's lying down. Comfortable or in the hands of Seattle's cold. My condensed breath pools around my face as I set my head down. And I close my eyes, punishing myself.

"_How could you do such a thing, Bella? Think about what you're doing," Henry growls. He grabs my hand, pleading._

"_Henry, I would," tears flow down my cheeks in cascades. "I would, but I can't. You know I can't." He drops my fingers, staring at me with coal eyes._

"_Why not? I could support you. You know that, Bella," he slowly drops to his knees. I stare down at him, vision and hot and blurred._

"_I know you can. But that's not it," I squeak, "I can't give myself to you. I want to, but I can't. I-I… I wish I could love you the same way you love me." He stares up at me harrowingly, dejection and pain swimming in his eyes. I place a hand over my stomach, rubbing up and down. _

"_I gave so much to you," he springs from the ground. "I picked you up, fixed you, patched all the holes and cuts. What else do you fucking want from me?" he howls and turns from me. I juxtapose my safe haven with the darkness of age eighteen. Henry loves me. Adores me. Dotes on me. Edward cut me. Sliced me. Shattered me. _

_I fold into myself, sobbing. I crinkle my eyes and hot tears spill from the creases. I am shameful. So fucking shameful._

"_Henry," I sniffle and stare up at him. "I'm so sorry. I just can't. A-a-and… I-I hate to be that girl that scarred you. I don't want to be your nightmare or that ghost around every corner. I-I can't do that to you. But I have no choice… I love you, I just… I don't… I don't love you like I loved him, Henry. I can never be truly yours. I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am."_

_He stares at me with burning hate; hate derived from love. Love and hate are two parallels, yet in the end, they run in one another. I wipe the tears from my eyes and stare down at my belly. My belly…_

"_I'm sorry," I whisper, "I can't."_

My teeth chatter fervently against the biting wind. I'm going to hell. To the hottest inferno of hell. My eyes snap open. I stare down at my belly and weep, certain that my tears have frozen over.

* * *

**Sorry for being such a terrible person but I'm SO busy. You know, college prep stuff. It's pretty hellish.**

**If you actually read this, you get a cookie and smooch from Edward for being so loyal. Love you guys!**

**Oh, and HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Christmas is almost here, la dee da dee daaaa :)**

**xx, JC44**


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